


The Proposal

by rhysndtrash



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysndtrash/pseuds/rhysndtrash
Summary: Feysand + "It's all downhill from here."Or, in which Rhys tries to be romantic and nothing goes as planned.





	

Rhysand was nervous. Sweating, fidgeting, couldn’t-settle-into-his-seat, nervous. Which was a problem, because Feyre really needed him to stay put so she could finish her painting of him.

He’d posed for her before. Countless times had she drawn and painted him, but tonight everything felt different. Tonight—tonight, Rhysand was going to propose to her.

He’d planned everything to the last detail—they’d go to the restaurant where they’d had their first date in—a little place close to Mor’s that served the best shrimp risotto either of them had ever tasted—, and then he’d take her on a walk around the Rose Park, where he’d get on one knee and ask for her hand under the moonlight.

But when he’d gotten home from work, she’d been covered in paint and desperate, saying that she had nothing, not one single good painting to show her professor the next day as her project of the week. And, despite the many paintings gathering around the room—many of which were perfect and could certainly be presented to her teacher—, of course he’d agreed to be her model for the day.

So he’d taken off his clothes, ignoring his girlfriend’s hungry gaze with a roll of his eyes, and perched on the kitchen stool Feyre’d brought into the living room. And then, she’d gotten to painting. And painting.

He hadn’t realized how long it would take. By now, their dinner reservations were gone, and he didn’t think he could get her to go on a romantic walk on the park just for shits and giggles, so he guessed his plans were pretty much done with.

He supposed he could do it another day, but he just couldn’t wait any longer, not when he loved her so deeply, so much. He couldn’t wait another minute to make Feyre his wife.

“Stop moving around,” Feyre laughed, looking at him from behind the canvas. “What’s up with you today?”

Rhysand sighed. “Oh, nothing.” he said. “Are you almost done?” he tried not to move, straightening his spine and looking at her from the corners of his eyes. “I’m cold.”

She smiled at him. “You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” he said.

She just rolled her eyes at him and painted another line, and another, and another, until— “There. All done.” She cocked her head to the side and before he could celebrate, added, “Almost.”

He groaned.

“Don’t worry, it only needs a few more touches.” she explained. “Don’t be such a baby.” she smirked at him. “And you don’t need to pose anymore, it’s all background stuff now. I’ll finish it in the morning.”

“Great.” he stood up, grabbing his jeans from the floor.

“What are you doing?” Feyre asked, coming close.

“Um,” he began. “Putting my clothes on?”

She put a paint-splattered hand on his chest, smudging it with reds and greens and yellows, and pushed him back until his knees hit the couch behind them. He sat down and she straddled his naked hips, whispering onto his ear, “I have another idea in mind.”

“Oh, how naughty, Feyre, darling.” he said, smirking. But he knew he shouldn’t indulge her—seeing as his girlfriend had more stamina in bed than a bunny and loved to take her time with him—, because he had a proposal to make and this—well, while this was surely leading to something he would enjoy, he should stick to what was left of his plan. “But shouldn’t you go take a shower? We’re going to get paint all over the apartment.”

“Oh?” Feyre said, raising an eyebrow and moving her hips ever so slowly, causing him to gulp down a strangled moan. “Afraid of getting a little dirty?”

Feyre kissed a spot right under his ear—that soft spot that always made his knees weak—, and then licked a line down to the place where his neck met his shoulder, where she sucked until she left a mark. She stopped, surveying her work, seemly satisfied.

“No.” he answered, a bit breathless. “But shouldn’t we, I don’t know, eat something? It’s getting kind of late.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Rhysand?” she said, pulling back a little to look into his violet eyes.

“No—no!” he exclaimed, placing a hand on her face.

“Then what, exactly, is the problem?”

Rhysand sighed, throwing caution to the wind as he carefully pushed Feyre off him and onto the couch seat next to him, reached for the jeans he had discarded on the floor besides the couch and fished a small velvety box from the back pocket.

And then, in all of his naked glory, Rhysand turned to his girlfriend and got on one knee, offering the open box to her.

“Oh, Gods.” Feyre was wide-eyed and gaping at him.

“Feyre Archeron, the day you met me you were in love with another man,” he started, trying to smile but failing, his nerves getting the best of him. “But even then, I knew you’d be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And every day since, you’ve proven me right.

“You’ve healed my soul, loved me in ways I didn’t even thought possible. And I love you, Feyre, with every bit of my heart and soul.”

“Oh, Gods.” she said again.

“So, what do you say?” he tried a smile, but it came out kind of crooked. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Feyre didn’t say anything. She sat there, looking at him with those wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“Feyre?”

She seemed to come back to herself, shaking her head and looking at him strangely. “Rhys—” she started. “You’re proposing? You’re naked!”

“Um,” he blushed—actually blushed—and fidgeted. “Yes?” he didn’t know whether to stand up or to remain on one knee. “But that’s not the point, Feyre. The point is that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up by your side everyday, and go to sleep by your side every night. I want to grow old with you. I want you, forever.” He took a deep breath. “What do you say?”

She had tears in her eyes as she finally, finally said, “Yes.” She held out her hand for him to grab and stand up. “Yes! Of course I want to marry you, you moron!”

Before he could say anything back, Feyre reached out to him, burrowing her hands in his hair, and kissed him deeply. She pulled him up and off his knees, and he lay on top of her, careful not to put his weight on her.

He pulled back from the kiss to put the ring onto her finger. “I guess we’re getting married, then, huh?”

“Oh, don’t get too excited, honey,” she answered back, a gleam of pure happiness in her eyes. “It’s all downhill from here.”


End file.
